I keep going back to that moment,
Right after we slid into the ditch.
As we literally hung in the balance,
Too much weight on the right side and we’d roll deeper and deeper into the ditch.
It was the moment that was so quiet and still.
Where every part of me shuddered,
Where we both forgot how to breathe.
Dangling as she slammed her foot on the gas pedal,
Causing the grass below the left driver side tire to spark on fire.
In that moment of stillness as the dry grass burned,
Fear.
Don’t move.
Figure something out.
She can’t move.
I can’t move.
Are we going to die?
I can’t stop shaking.
Breathe.
I can’t breathe.
******* we are going to die.
That moment where all the questions and decisions in the world happened,
The left tire blew erupted into flames as I grabbed her shoulder, leaving her towards the left side to stabilize us as much as possible.
I told her to push her feet into that break and not to let up until I tell her to.
Climbing into the back seat breaking the window and climbing out.
Pitch black smoke everywhere I actually lost my directions and couldn’t see the van.
I couldn’t breathe.
After fumbling around like a blind man,
I found the door and had to rip the seat belt off to get her out.
She was frozen so I had to carry her to the other of the road.
That’s when the next moment happened.
The shuddering, the heat of the flames.
The crackling of the fire, the moonlight reflecting on the river.
That’s when I did the most stupidest thing,
I ran back into the fire.